Amber vs Chaos
by PrincessEilonwy
Summary: How Amberites and Lords of Chaos do things differently.
1. How to Get a Hamburger

Disclaimer: Stop right there. I know what you're thinking! You're thinking, "Any second now she'll admit that Roger Zelazny owns this fabulous series and she doesn't." Well, I've got news for you, buddy! This is actually original fiction and I decided to post it here because...uh...*sigh*...I cannot tell a lie. Roger Zelazny owns all the characters except Bart.  
  
A/N: My first Amber story! I started reading the Amber books a few months ago and I got really confused because I read Sign of the Unicorn first and I had no Amberly idea what was going on. But getting to the point...I was trying to think of a story I could do and I eventually came up with the idea of contrasting the way Amberites and Lords of Chaos do everyday things. I've only got two ideas so far, but hopefully I'll come up with more and be able to continue the story. And now...Chapter One.  
  
How to Get a Hamburger  
  
Benedict, Prince of Amber, strolled into the royal kitchens whistling a marching song Corwin had composed for him seven hundred years ago. Hands in his pockets, he made his way leisurely to the royal refrigerator and flung open the door with an easy flourish born of long practice. It was time for his midafternoon yogurt. Benedict reached for the package of yogurt cups-  
  
And stopped short in horror. What villainy was this? His precious yogurt was gone! In true, time-honored Amberite fashion, Benedict's mind subconsciously started running through the list of all his siblings currently in Amber that could possibly want to do such a thing to him. What did the perpetrator hope to gain by holding his yogurt hostage? If whoever it was thought they could bring Benedict of Amber to his knees, they were certainly mistaken!  
  
Oh, wait...Having somewhat absorbed the shock of his sudden loss, Benedict began to register things he hadn't noticed before. Such as the fact that his yogurt wasn't the only thing missing from the refrigerator. In fact, it looked as though the whole thing had been cleaned out.  
  
Benedict blinked, perplexed by this new revelation. Thankfully, his confusion only lasted a few seconds before he caught sight of a piece of paper lying on the upper shelf of the refrigerator. Apprehensive of what news it might contain, he picked it up and scanned it quickly.  
  
~~~~~  
  
My dearest Benedict:  
  
As you have no doubt noticed, the refrigerator has been cleaned out because there was something spoiled in it. And don't try to blame me, because IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! You've gone far enough with that darn yogurt of yours. Frozen yogurt is fine by me, *fuzzy* yogurt is not. Therefore, as the King of Amber, Ruler of Shadows, etc., I must request very, very firmly that you find another place to house your dairy products in the future. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.  
  
Signed,  
  
Random I, King of Amber, Ruler of Shadows, etc.  
  
~~~~~  
  
This was a terrible blow, and Benedict simply gaped at the note for half a minute before he could trust himself to move. Hanging onto the refrigerator door handle for support, he stared blindly at the magnet on the freezer door that read, "Chaos Happens." He had never particularly liked that magnet, but it summed up his feelings at the moment extraordinarily well. Forcing himself to focus on the present problem, Benedict ran through his options and quickly came to the decision that there was only one thing he could do. He slammed the refrigerator shut and ran from the room, his cloak billowing behind him.  
  
#####  
  
Dara was ravenously hungry. She'd had nothing whatsoever since noon and it was nearly two o'clock. Clearly, something had to be done to remedy the situation-and soon. Getting up from the sofa she was lounging on, she made her way to what was popularly called the Food Court of Chaos, otherwise known as the royal kitchens.  
  
Upon reaching the spacious kitchen, Dara made a beeline for the rainbow- colored refrigerator. Greeting the well-worn handle like an old friend, she swung it open and bent to reach the shelf where the lunchmeat should have been.  
  
It was gone. For a minute Dara couldn't take in the enormity of this and stood in front of the open refrigerator trembling like a leaf. Then she noticed that the refrigerator was, in fact, totally and completely empty. She took several deep, calming breaths and closed her eyes. For once, it actually seemed to help, for when she opened them again she saw for the first time the note resting on the top shelf. Gingerly she took it and read, her consternation growing more with every word.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Dara, I've had it! That son-of-an-Amberite boy of yours and his juvenile delinquent friends ate all the food in the place for lunch. I always told you he'd be trouble someday, so don't come complaining to me. Fend for yourself for a few days while we restock.  
  
-Swayvil, King of Chaos  
  
~~~~~  
  
Feeling a sudden urge to scream, Dara ground her teeth in frustration. Turning away from the refrigerator, she deliberately tore the note into many, many, many small pieces and scattered the debris on the swirling tiles of the floor. Obviously, the refrigerator would be no help, so she would just have to make do with what she could scavenge from Shadow.  
  
Actually, Dara thought, that might not be too bad. After all, she could now have her choice of any food she wanted. Hmm...What should she have? Fried ty'iga was always good. Or takeout Chinese food. Or she could possibly even steal some of that great sushi from Rebma...  
  
Dara's stomach growled insistently, reminding her that a decision had better be reached soon. As she tried to decide what she should get, an image came unbidden to her mind of a half-pound deluxe cheeseburger dripping with onions, extra mayo, and ketchup. It had been a long time since she visited the Golden Arches. Too long, Dara decided suddenly. No matter how long it took, she was going to get herself a McDonald's cheeseburger or perish bravely in the attempt.  
  
#####  
  
No one stopped Benedict as he rushed down the corridor at breakneck speed. Perhaps they were afraid of the manic gleam in his eye or the determined rhythm of his sprint. Or maybe they were just sick and tired of dealing with everyday life in Amber and had decided to ignore him for the afternoon. Either way, they left Benedict alone, which was really all he wanted.  
  
Reaching the royal stables, he skidded to a stop by his horse Shadowmane. "Come on, boy," he panted, quickly saddling the long-suffering equine. "It's time for a hellride."  
  
Shadowmane gave him a mistrustful glance as he mounted, but Benedict was too intent on the life-or-death quest before him to waste time on reassurances. He swung up and kicked Shadowmane into motion with a fearsome war cry, galloping at top speed past the palace gates and a pair of astonished sentries who looked up momentarily from their card game. Benedict of Amber was a man on a mission, and he knew exactly where he was going-to that seemingly insignificant shadow Earth that for some reason was more important than all the others put together. The only one with Mickey D's.  
  
Concentrating hard, Benedict leaned into the rising wind. It was hard to shift in Shadow this close to Amber, but the circumstances obviously necessitated it. After all, this was truly a dire situation.  
  
Hmm...how should he start? Ah, yes, highways. First the roads...and then the cars...and then the earsplitting racket. Perfect. Benedict smiled an evil, secret smile to himself as he urged the grumpy Shadowmane to an insane speed, clinging to the reins with determined tenacity.  
  
...A suburb surrounded by the desolate stumps of long-bulldozed trees...A line of stationary cars with horns perpetually honking in an infernal cacophony...Riding down a street where teenagers attired in black gazed sullenly at him...Yes, Benedict thought, he must be very close to the shadow he sought. He paid close attention to his surroundings as he shifted from blue to smog-clouded sky.  
  
Wait! Benedict caught his breath sharply. After all that vigilance, he had almost missed the shadow he was looking for. Slowing Shadowmane to a canter, he surveyed the land around him until he saw the welcome sight of a pair of yellow arcs on a sign that proudly proclaimed, "Over 1 Billion Served." Benedict's heart leaped with joy. The arduous journey had been worth it, for he would now finally get his beloved cheeseburger.  
  
#####  
  
Dara had repositioned herself on the couch, for reaching through Shadow could often be exhausting. She summoned the Logrus and drew two of its lines of force to herself, making them her arms. Extending them, she began to reach.  
  
Reaching...reaching...reaching...Apparently none of the nearby shadows had burgers. This could take longer than she had thought. But Dara's momentary despair was quickly overwhelmed by the thought of the prize that would soon be hers if she persevered. Taking new courage, she stretched out once more and continued searching for her cheeseburger.  
  
#####  
  
Benedict dismounted and tied Shadowmane to the nearest streetlight. His excitement growing with every step closer to his goal, he dashed across the McDonald's parking lot. So focused was he on obtaining the burger that even the furious honks of cars as he cut through the drive-thru line were music to his ears. Panting slightly with the effort, Benedict triumphantly flung the door wide and entered with a great many imaginary trumpet blasts.  
  
He stopped short, blinking at the depressingly long lines in front of all the cash registers. Obviously this was not a good time to try to get anything in a hurry. Nonetheless, Benedict decided, he would simply have to exercise patience, one of the many virtues that his family did not possess. Resignedly, he joined the end of the shortest line he could see.  
  
As he waited, Benedict's mind wandered. The recurring image that floated tantalizingly before him was that of a half-pound cheeseburger with all his favorite toppings. [Patience, patience,] Benedict told his growling stomach. [You will get your reward soon enough...I hope.]  
  
#####  
  
Reaching...Wait, what was that? Curses. Tofu burger. Disappointed, Dara kept reaching. She was growing somewhat weary now and wasn't sure how long she could keep this up. If she didn't find something soon...  
  
But she mustn't give up now. She was close, she could feel it in her bones. Just a few more shadows, perhaps, and she would reach it. Just a few more shadows...  
  
#####  
  
Seven minutes and forty-eight seconds later, it was finally Benedict's turn to order. With an air of confidence befitting a prince of Amber, he stepped up to the counter and flashed a friendly smile at the young man behind it.  
  
"Good afternoon...Bart," he began smoothly, noting the employee's nametag. "I'd like a half-pound deluxe cheeseburger with onions, extra mayo, and ketchup." Bart nodded curtly.  
  
"Anything else I can get you, sir?" he asked in the mechanical voice of a true McDonald's Employee Clone. Benedict shook his head impatiently. He just couldn't wait to get his hands on that burger, taste the well-done beef, the melted cheese...  
  
He got his receipt and stood at the counter waiting for his number to be called.  
  
#####  
  
Almost there. Good thing too, because she was absolutely starving. Dara felt beads of sweat forming on her forehead as she continued to grope through shadow in search of the elusive cheeseburger. How the heck could it be so hard to get a simple sandwich?  
  
Becoming aware of the tension in her body, Dara relaxed against the sofa and made a final, powerful effort. Just a little further...  
  
#####  
  
"Number 32, your food is ready." The welcome summons jolted Benedict from a daydream state in which visions of beef patties danced in his head. Excitedly, he shouldered aside the other waiting customers and grabbed the tray, feeling a deep sense of triumph and personal satisfaction. It had been hard, but he had courageously conquered all obstacles in his way and would now taste the sweet taste of victory.  
  
He found a table and sat down with a pleased sigh. "Now, my little cheeseburger," he said lovingly to the foil-wrapped package in front of him. "I've waited long enough for you and now I'm going to EAT you!" Blissfully unaware of the extremely frightened looks he was attracting from other patrons, Benedict unwrapped his food and picked it up to admire it once more.  
  
#####  
  
There! At last, she found something. Dara reached and got hold of it. It was absolutely perfect-onions, extra mayo, and all. She pulled-  
  
#####  
  
Benedict leaned forward to take a heavenly bite of his burger-  
  
And his teeth closed on nothing. Staring in horror at his empty hands, he gave a strangled wail of grief and hit his head on the edge of the table several times. Throwing back his head, Benedict of Amber let loose with the royal death howl.  
  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
A/N: Poor, poor Benedict. After all that work, those darn Chaos folks got the best of him again. Oh well...*evil laugh* I have about six ideas for this now, so all I have to do is figure out how to make them work and I'm set. I'm really not sure how I came up with this insane idea, but it was too good to pass up. Surprisingly enough, I came up with most of these ideas on a bus stranded at an academic competition in between reading Trumps of Doom. Coming as soon as I can finish writing it: How to Cope With Sibling Rivalry. 


	2. How to Cope With Sibling Rivalry

Disclaimer: Actually, technically Random owns the Roger Zelazny books as King of Amber and therefore Shadow as well...but I don't think copyright laws in our universe work that way.  Sorry, Random.

A/N: Another chapter!  First of all, a big thank-you to rct the deku nut, my first reviewer.  Don't worry, I intend to do plenty more.  *evil chuckle*  Second of all, having read _Prince of Chaos_, I now know that Shadowmane is not Benedict's regular horse and was quite unconsciously stolen from J.R.R. Tolkien's _The Two Towers_, having read that also.  Oh well, so Benedict has another horse he uses in my story because I'm the almighty author and I said so!  Don't blame me for deviations in plot, this is kind of an alternate universe thing.  Plus I may have just gotten stuff wrong, but alternate universe makes everything all right.  So please don't kill me for the Chaos part of this chapter where I didn't have _Blood of Amber _in front of me and thus was forced to make up gibberish slightly resembling the original story line, minus the correct names of everything.  You know, I was originally going to do this as a compare/contrast chart but I decided why do that when I could get so much more mileage out of separate chapters?  After all, the Amber section needs all the stories it can get.  Short recruitment spiel for folks who haven't written anything yet: We Need YOU To Write Amber Fanfiction.  (Insert mental image of Corwin in black and silver top hat, pointing Grayswandir at you.)  But for now, I'll settle for having you read mine and tell me how great you thought it was.

How to Cope With Sibling Rivalry

Corwin was mad.

Not only had his big brother Eric deliberately kept him on the shadow Earth for years as an amnesiac, he was now trying to take the throne of Amber.  This was adding insult to injury, as Corwin obviously had a better claim to it—he was a much nicer, more considerate, and more moral person than any of his siblings.  Which wasn't saying much, considering the dysfunctional family he had.  But still...

He paused for a moment to think about the best way to take revenge, for that was surely the only thing to do under the circumstances.  Should he try to take on Eric alone?  He would dearly love to, of course, but he would also dearly love to keep his head on his shoulders for a long time to come.  

As Corwin pondered his dilemma, his hand brushed something—his deck of Trumps.  That was it!  He would call some other family members that he somewhat trusted and get them to help him.  Now the question was...who should he call?  Mentally, he began to run through the list of people who would be relatively unlikely to stab him in the back.  

Unsurprisingly, the list was extremely short.  Coming to a decision, Corwin shuffled through his Trumps until he reached Caine's and held it in front of him, concentrating fixedly on the picture of his brother.  Gradually, the card grew cold, a sign of imminent connection.  Corwin waited patiently, fascinated by watching the two-dimensional portrait come to life and begin to move.

"Who is it?  What do you want?" asked Caine suspiciously, eyes narrowed to distrustful slits.  Wondering briefly if this was going to work quite as well as he'd thought, Corwin took a deep breath and plunged bravely into the fray.

"Um, hi, Caine, it's Corwin," he began.  A rather good start, he thought.  "You know, I just found out that our beloved brother Eric is taking the throne, and, well, really, to be frank...I don't like it one bit."  Having gotten warmed up now, Corwin felt he could let loose with one of his inspiring, eloquent speeches.  

Caine blinked slowly.  "Who does?"  Not exactly encouraging, but at least he hadn't broken contact yet.

"And I think I ought to do something about it.  Yeah.  So I'm gonna try to take over with one of those watchamacallit, coups.  And what I really wanted to ask you is, since you're a relative and all, I thought I'd cut you in for part of the deal if you wanted to..."  Feeling himself start to babble, Corwin shut up to see what Caine's reaction would be.

"Meaning...?"  A man of few words, Caine.  It was Corwin's turn to blink as he considered how best to phrase his offer, in reality a desperate plea.  If Caine insisted on being this dense, this could be tougher than he had expected.

"I want you to help me overthrow Eric," he blurted, figuring he might as well just spit it out.  Perhaps his brother would grasp the concept better when it was stated outright.  While he waited for the meaning of what he had just said to percolate through Caine's head, he recommenced going over his list of folks he could more or less, mostly less, trust.  After thinking about it for another minute or two, Corwin had decided that his list was comprised of exactly two people—Caine and Bleys.

"Ahem."  Apparently, Caine had finally reached a decision.  Corwin tried not to look too eager as he waited for the verdict.  "I'll help," Caine announced, taciturn as always.  Letting out the breath he had been subconsciously holding, Corwin resisted the strong impulse to punch the air in triumph.  Instead, he forced himself to focus on the details of their arrangement.

"Great.  Can you have your fleet ready to go in, say, three days?"  Caine nodded silently.  "Excellent.  Well, gotta go.  See you then."  Corwin passed his hand over the Trump and broke contact.  Then he sat and planned his next move, an evil little grin planted firmly on his evil little face.

#####

"—And your dad's an _Amberite,"_ Jurt ended with a satisfied nod, winding up a long string of slurs on Merlin's intelligence, father, looks, father, magical abilities, and father.  He had run out of original insults about four years earlier, but in his experience even the oldest ones never failed to get a rise out of his half-brother.

"Yeah?" Merlin retorted promptly.  "Yeah, well, you...you...your dad's _not_ an Amberite!  And I can beat you any day!"  There, that was a good one.  He'd have to remember that for next time.

Mandor put his head in his hands, wondering why all his brothers were such idiots.  Honestly, sometimes he thought he was the only one in the family with any brains at all.  It would be much nicer to go live in Amber where there were other people with intelligence and culture.  Like Princess Fiona...

Jurt cocked an eyebrow mockingly, his usual sarcastic smirk spread all over his demonic face.  "Aw, is wittle Merwin trying to play with the big boys?  Bless your pointy little horns."  He patted Merlin's head, ignoring the smoke beginning to rise from his brother's ears.  "Now why don't you run along and tell Mother on me?  I'm sure she'd love to hear from her favorite son..."  

His mood changed abruptly from amusement to anger.  "Would you like to know _why_ you're her favorite son, Merlin?" Jurt taunted, beginning to circle him.  "You think it's because you're so much better than the rest of us?  THINK AGAIN!"  Face twisting into that expression Merlin knew all too well was the harbinger of an insane rampage, he leaned his face in close, practically spitting with rage.  "All she cares about is grooming you as the next King of Chaos!"

This had precisely the effect he had intended—Merlin's temper heated to match his own.  "I've taken enough of this from you, Jurt," he hissed, finally showing some spine.  "If you want to insult me, you're going to have to reckon with the wrath of THE ALMIGHTY MERLIN!"

Jurt suddenly switched moods again, his fiery anger dissipating into an ominous calm before the storm.  "Fine," he replied almost lazily, shrugging.  "You get the weapons, I get the hoverboards, and we meet back here in half an hour.  Okay?"  Merlin only jerked his head impatiently in response and turned away to prepare for what was quickly shaping up to be his most intense fraternal quarrel to date.  Grinning with anticipation, Mandor went to get the rest of their approximately five dozen siblings, half-siblings, and stepsiblings.  After all, they'd never forgive him if he let them miss all the fun.

#####

Fingering his Trumps absently, Corwin decided it was time to call Bleys and make more arrangements for his little coup.  Encouraged by his sure, if slow, success with Caine, he selected Bleys' Trump and held it up, concentrating on the picture of his brother.  He really hoped that he had another of those wine goblets, because he sure could use one.

Slowly, the picture of Bleys began to move, gaining dimensionality as the background changed to show an evening sky.  "Darn," Corwin pouted as the goblet disappeared.  His brother frowned slightly.

"Hello, you have reached Prince Bleys of Amber.  To whom am I speaking?"  Corwin rolled his eyes in exasperation.  Apparently, he wasn't the only one who got involved in life on the Shadow Earth.  Bleys was obviously way too used to using telephones instead of Trumps for everyday communication.

"Hi Bleys, it's Corwin," he replied, already resigning himself to another long conversation with an infuriatingly thick relative.  Still, there was hope.  If his opening was any indication, Bleys at least was feeling more talkative today than Caine, which was always a good sign.

"Corwin!" Bleys boomed jovially, breaking into a smile.  "How've ya been, man?  Because, ya know, I was just thinkin' about ya the other day.  See, I'm kinda plannin' a takeover and, well, I might need your help somewhere along the way.  Whaddaya say?  Ya with me?"

Corwin blinked in surprise.  How could Bleys dare to steal his plan?  Of all the nerve...But this could still be helpful if he could take advantage of the hereditary family stupidity and con Bleys into being his loyal sidekick.  Kind of like a big, shaggy dog that would loyally follow him around, the main difference being that Bleys could command an army under Corwin's direction.

"Well, actually," he started smoothly, "I was just thinking the other day, and I thought, well, I need some help doing a tough, dangerous job and I need someone with brains.  Now who should I ask?  And of course I thought, Bleys is obviously my man.  So...here I am and, to be quite frank..."  Laying the flattery on this thick was really starting to get on his nerves, but all he needed was a few more minutes and he would have all the help he needed to carry out his plan.

"I would be, uh, greatly honored if you would add your, er, unmatchable expertise in war, fighting, weapons, and stuff like that to my meager knowledge on the subject."  He thought he should probably add something else in there to sweeten the deal and racked his brains for something Bleys would actually want.  "In fact, I'll even offer you a regency if I—we—win.  And if you don't want that, you can always kill me after we kill Eric."  [When the Pit of Chaos freezes over...]

To his great relief, Bleys seemed to be thinking the offer over.  His vacant blue eyes glazing over slightly with the effort of thought, he furrowed his brow and frowned slightly.  "So, ya got an army?"

[No, you idiot!] Corwin raged silently.  [Why do you think I'm asking for your help?]  "Um...yeah, of course I do," he replied aloud, trying to sound insulted at the implication that he might not.  "Would I be trying a coup if I didn't?"  Hoping Bleys had the sheer idiocy to actually believe a line like that, he crossed his fingers and waited.

His brother smiled then.  "Good point, Corwin.  After all, ya oughta know by now ya gotta get up early in the mornin' to pull a trick like that on good old Bleys."  Corwin suddenly had to stifle a strong urge to break out in laughter at the thought of Bleys having enough intelligence to outwit the common garden slug, let alone someone as wily and streetwise as himself.  

"So," he said, very carefully hiding any trace of contempt for his newly recruited mindless crony, "if we rendezvous with our forces in the Shadow Earth in, say, two days, we can…"  Suddenly realizing even Bleys would be somewhat curious if he showed up with a nonexistent army, he decided he'd have to come up with something.  "Oh, darn!  I just got a report that all…six—no, eight thousand, yeah, that's the ticket…anyway, um, all of them, uh, perished miserably in a…terrible…uh…"

"Yes?" Bleys prompted innocently, genuinely concerned for the welfare of the imaginary troops.  Even in the midst of trying to think of a halfway-plausible disaster, Corwin had to marvel at his lack of intellect.  Idly, he wondered if Bleys had ever had an IQ test and, if so, how soon afterward the psychologist had killed himself.

"…Uh…in a terrible…possum attack!"  What in Shadow had possessed him to say that of all things?  It was absolutely pathetic.  Of course, what was infinitely more so was the fact that Bleys actually bought it.

"Oh, well, duh, sorry ta hear that.  Guess it's just my army, then?"  Corwin expressed his assent while doing his best to sound heartbroken at his devastating "news."  With a friendly if idiotic goodbye, Bleys broke off contact, leaving Corwin to meditate on his surefire plan for domination of Amber.

#####

"Brothers and sisters, let me welcome you to the first official Jurt-Merlin match of the season!"  Yep, Mandor was definitely enjoying his role as announcer way too much.  The glade was packed with all the siblings he'd been able to gather on such short notice, all four or five marriages' worth of them.  Merlin and Jurt were glaring machetes at each other across the clearing, ready and willing to begin as soon as Mandor noticed nobody was listening to him and just let them start.

It took a while, but he finally reached that point and broke off what had promised to be a long speech on the way duels were fought a long, long time ago when he was just a little imp himself.  "Aaaaaand now…let the games begin!" he roared to the relieved cheers of the crowd.  Raising their weapons, Jurt and Merlin leaped on their hoverboards and began to circle each other warily, looking for an opening.

"And helping me with the commentary this afternoon is our brother Despil!"  The aforementioned Despil bowed modestly to his siblings in the impromptu stands, obviously never having gotten anything near this much attention before.  The combatants ignored them and continued to circle in a time-honored strategy called Perhaps-If-I-Circle-Long-Enough-He'll-Get-Motion-Sickness-Before-I-Do.

Mandor and Despil settled comfortably in their chairs and commenced the kind of interminably cheerful banter that loses the world of sports thousands of fans every year:  

"Well, Despil, what do you think of Merlin's chances of winning this time around?"

"Well, Mandor, I think he has a decent chance, being more than half Amberite and all."

Slight pause.

"Well, Despil, what do you think of Jurt's chances of winning this time around?"

"Well, Mandor, I think he's got a halfway decent chance, being insane and evil and all."

"Well, Despil, looks like the action's gotten off to a pretty good start."  Merlin and Jurt continued to circle.

"Well, Mandor, it sure does."

Longer pause.

"Well, Despil, nice weather we've been having, isn't it?"

"Well, Mandor, I reckon so."

Luckily, nobody was paying the least bit of attention to this drivel.  Instead, their eyes were riveted on the drama unfolding before them—Jurt had decided to actually take a stab at Merlin.  The audience oohed and aahed as Merlin feinted in _quarte,_ parried in _sixte,_ and finished up with a fancy move he'd learned from Borel.  He smiled at Jurt, one of those infuriatingly superior yet gracious smiles that boil the blood of insane evil half-brothers.

Jurt decided it was time to break out the taunts again.  "Come on, Pattern-boy!" he hissed, smirking more maliciously than ever as he waited for Merlin to get distracted enough to be off his guard so he could just kill him and get it over with.  "I can beat you at anything without trying!"  Not exactly the most intelligent of insults, but then high quality slights were wasted on his idiot brother.

Amazingly enough, their siblings managed to catch this choice remark over the excited blabbering of Despil and Mandor, who were now talking about other fights they'd seen when they were younger.  Realizing that this probably portended some speeding up of the action, they all stood up and began to cheer.

"FIGHT!  FIGHT!  FIGHT!"  Yes, there was nothing like a family feud to bring everyone together for some quality time.  Why, brothers and sisters who hadn't spoken to each other for decades were standing side by side egging on the fighters, who might actually start fighting any minute now.

"Yeah?" Merlin panted in response to Jurt's challenge.  "Well, I can...I can..."  He cast about for something he could do.  Nothing was forthcoming, so he focused once more on the fight.  Trying another fancy move, he feinted in _sixte_ and scored a hit as Jurt fell for the ruse.

Delighted, Merlin realized he'd found the answer he sought.  "I can cut your ear off!" he yelled happily as Jurt's ear went flying off, trailing blood, guts, and gore.  The spectators roared their approval.  Jurt roared his dismay and anger.

"I'M GONNA TELL MOM!" he shrieked, lower lip trembling in a threat of tantrum that would give even the most battle-hardened warrior pause, to say nothing of someone like Merlin.  Starting to feel extremely nervous, Merlin wondered how he was going to get out of this.  He was getting absolutely no help from the spectators, who had stopped talking to watch this latest thickening of the plot with some amusement.

"No, Jurt, don't cry please please please," Merlin begged, knowing exactly how much trouble he would get into if Jurt got to their mother before he did and tattled on him.  He tried to help his brother to his feet, hoping the old look-how-nice-I-am routine would work.  It didn't, but then it never had.  So what should he do?  He could try to stop Jurt from getting to Dara...which would undoubtedly lead to even more trouble for him when she found out what he'd done.  And at the moment, more trouble was really the last thing he needed.

Jurt was having none of his act.  "Get your claws off me!" he howled, slapping Merlin's hands away as he continued to bawl in pain.  Frantically, Merlin signaled to Mandor, who decided to make himself useful for once and rushed over to help.  Together, they grabbed their protesting sibling and began to carry him back to the Ways of Sawall, the rest of the family trailing close behind.

#####

Corwin felt good about the state of affairs.  Bleys had his army ready, and he himself was on the flagship of the fleet he was leading to rendezvous with Caine.  What could possibly go wrong?

Initially, he had had some small, niggling doubts about trusting any siblings under any circumstances, but he was absolutely certain he could count on Caine and Bleys.  Why, he had lived off his wits for years and if he didn't know exactly who he could trust by this time, he'd eat his cloak!

He felt someone calling him.  Probably Bleys or Caine, he decided as he asked, "Yes?  What is it?"  Why would they need to call him at this stage of the proceedings?

"Caine here," his brother's laconic voice replied.  "About our deal..."

Suddenly getting a bad feeling about this, Corwin prompted, "Uh-huh?"  What was going on?

He got his answer as the cannons of Caine's fleet abruptly turned to aim directly at his ship.  "I lied," Caine said flatly, then broke contact.  Corwin stared in horror at the ships surrounding him and began to feel very dumb indeed.  Why had he not seen this coming?  [Oh, what a fool I've been...]

Of course, there were several options at this point.  He could be unbelievably heroic and insist on dying with the idiots he had duped into coming along, or he could call Bleys and escape like a true yellow-bellied coward.  Which was the right thing to do?

Whipping out his Trumps, he flipped hastily to Bleys' card and stared at it, willing the connection to work at warp speed.  At last, after a seeming eternity, the picture of his brother came to life, looking rather confused as always.  Since he didn't have time for small talk, Corwin plunged right in.

"Bleys," he panted, "get me out of here!"  Bleys blinked in surprise, but wordlessly held out a hand.  Corwin seized it, said, "See ya later, folks," to the nearest sailors, and stepped through to join his brother and safety.

Once safe in Bleys' camp, Corwin explained the situation to Bleys, who was slow to understand but terrible in his wrath when Corwin finally managed to pound it into his head.  "That dirty double-crossin' cheatin' lyin' stealin'..."  Bleys was amazingly creative in his description of Caine, but they had no time for such luxuries and Corwin, somewhat regretfully, had to cut him off.

"Look, we have to get to the palace now before it's too late," he explained hurriedly.  Bleys nodded sagely and got his army moving in a surprisingly short time.  One hour later they were on the road to the great city of Amber.

There followed a long and bloody battle in which about nineteen-twentieths of their forces were killed, leaving the two brothers in command of about two hundred men all told.  As they fought their way through to the palace, this number slowly dwindled to a mere two dozen, but Bleys seemed not in the least perturbed by this.  "Nothin' like a good battle, eh?" he boomed happily, clapping Corwin on the shoulder.  Corwin wisely kept his mouth shut and concentrated on breaking the family record of seventy-nine enemy soldiers in one minute.

At last only Bleys and Corwin remained of the many troops they had set out with, but they continued fighting with undiminished bravery, energy, and strength like true Amberites.  On their way up the steep, winding rock stair, Corwin killed eighty-six soldiers without pausing for breath, but Bleys was not so lucky.  He inadvertently lost his balance and fell off the side of the staircase, beginning the hundred-foot plunge to the rocks below.

"Noooooooooooo!" Corwin cried, rushing to the edge.  He could do nothing to prevent the fall, but on a whim he tossed his deck of Trumps over the edge after his brother.  Then, as he watched them fall, he berated himself for being such an idiot, sighed, and continued upstairs.

Twenty minutes and three hundred sixty-three bodies later, Corwin had reached the palace and was looking around for Eric so he could properly challenge his right to the throne.  Obligingly, Eric appeared with sword in hand and proceeded to try to run him through.  This, of course, Corwin could not allow, so the battle was on.  They fought hand-to-hand up and down hallways, in and out of bedchambers, and all the way down the length of the banquet hall.

At last they made their violent way to the caverns wherein the Pattern resided.  Knowing that no coup would be complete without a swordfight on the Pattern itself, the brothers managed to steer themselves toward the intricate design while keeping up a professional stream of feints, parries, and lunges in _quarte_ and _sixte._  When they reached the Pattern, Eric called contemptuously, "You'll never win, Corwin!"

"We'll see about that," Corwin replied confidently, forcing his brother back with a clever lunge.  He placed his foot on the Pattern and took a cautious step along the route he had now traversed several times.  The familiar curtain of blue sparks rose about him, higher with each step, but he persevered while somehow expertly fending off Eric's blows.

He reached and passed the First and Second Veils without trouble and came up to the Grand Curve, the part of the Pattern that could make or break him.  Of course, having done it twice before he knew he could do it again, so it was really no biggie.  Aside from the fact that he might die, but that was really a minor consideration...

After a supreme effort, he made it through the Final Veil and reached the center of the Pattern—the eye of the storm, as it were.  Alas, he had no time to rest, for Eric was right on his heels.  Gathering his thoughts, Corwin stepped onto the center and commanded, "Take me as far away from Amber as you can!"

This was a mistake, as he quickly realized.  Looking around at the pretty psychedelic swirls, Corwin of Amber commented intelligently, "Wha...?"

#####

Merlin and Mandor, still dragging the earless Jurt, made their shamefaced way into the Ways of Sawall.  Somehow Merlin wasn't in the least surprised to see his mother waiting for him, looking very angry indeed.

"And just what, pray tell, have you young hoodlums been up to?" Dara demanded, sparks flying from her eyes.

"Aw, Mom, we was just playin'!" Merlin protested, brushing out a small fire on his shirt collar.  "Mom" was having none of it.  She glared at him until he looked at the ornately tiled floor and hung his head in shame.  "Honest, I didn't mean to—"

Dara cut him short with an imperious gesture.  "Enough!"  He fell silent, swallowing hard at the thought of what would become of him now.  "Come with me," she commanded, taking his arm and propelling him down the hallway to the sitting room.  Merlin glanced back once to see Mandor looking rather lost, still holding Jurt.

In the sitting room stood—could it be?  No...it was!  Corwin of Amber was sipping a cup of coffee, looking rather out of place amid the Chaos-style decorations.  Merlin swallowed even harder.  This was serious!

"Your father and I have talked this over," Dara said severely, "and we agree that a punishment is in order to teach you a lesson."  Corwin nodded rather absentmindedly at this, obviously meaning something along the lines of "Yes, dear."  Wondering what his punishment would be, Merlin wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and waited for the verdict.

"We've decided that..."  She paused for dramatic emphasis, and he winced, wishing she would just get it over with.  "...You are grounded from the Logrus for a month."

Merlin stared, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.  How could this be?  This was impossible...But there it was, and there he was, and there was clearly only one thing to say under the circumstances...

"Aw, _Mo-_om!"

A/N: I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to update, but as you may have noticed this is quite a bit longer than the first chapter was.  Also, I'm working on about fifteen different stories at once, which tends to slow progress, but bear with me.  I'll get them posted eventually and then I can spend more time on this.  I've got six or seven ideas at the moment, and I've already started the third and fourth chapters, so it shouldn't take long.  WE NEED FANFICTION!  Sorry.  As you may have noticed, at the moment the section is just a teensy bit small.  In the interest of encouraging Amber writers, both new and experienced, I present the first in a series of Useful Amber Tools:

+++++

10 Useful Tips for Writing Amber Fanfiction 

1. Give everyone at least 3 children they didn't know they had.

2. Have a family member go insane and evil and try to take over Amber.

3. When the action gets boring, spice it up with some juicy brother/sister stuff.

4. Always parry in _sixte._

5. If you don't know what to write next, insert a hellride.

6. Have Corwin walk a Pattern, doesn't matter which one.

7. There are always more Trumps you don't know about.

8. Cut the Shadow Earth in for at least 10% of the action.

9. Nobody ever dies—they just rot in dungeons.

10. Time differential covers a multitude of niggling discrepancies—use it liberally.

With these general rules, you too can write Amber stories like a pro—_the_ pro, to be exact.  The next Useful Amber Tool, "Interchangeable Hellride Paragraphs", will come with the third chapter.

+++++

Yes, I am rather irreverent, but hey, this _is_ humor/parody.  Take it or leave it.  Either way, review!  Coming Sooner or Later: How to Go Shopping.


	3. How to Go Shopping

Disclaimer: I own it!  I own it!  I own it!  BRAND THE ALMIGHTY OWNS EVERYTHING!!!!!  Except, apparently, the copyright for the Amber series, which belongs to Roger Zelazny.  

A/N: Another chapter!  I still haven't finished reading the series (I know.  Pathetic, isn't it?), but I'm on the last book, thank goodness.  Once I'm done, I'm probably going to have to go back and read them all again, in order this time (i.e. not third book first).  Frankly, I've forgotten a lot of the details in _Sign of the Unicorn_ because it was on audiotape and I had absolutely no clue who anyone was at the time.  But enough rambling...time to start the story.  (Warning: this is extremely long.  There are a few slow spots, but it gets better later on...at least I thoroughly enjoyed it.)

How to Go Shopping

"I need some new clothes," Corwin remarked lazily as he lounged in an armchair in Fiona's apartments in the royal palace.  Fiona, who was going through the elaborate and complicated process of making tea, looked up and raised a perfectly molded eyebrow.

"So go to the tailor," she suggested, dunking the tea bags with the ease of long practice.  Honestly, sometimes Corwin could be a little strange.  Most people would just have gone and gotten the stupid clothes without making such a big deal out of it.  But then, Corwin was definitely not most people...

Corwin shook his head impatiently.  "No, I don't want to go to the tailor," he argued.  "I want to go _shopping."_  Fiona rolled her eyes, wondering what in Chaos had gotten into her brother today.  Shopping...?

She decided she would simply have to be patient and humor him, always the best course when dealing with Corwin.  "And why do you want to go shopping?" she inquired sweetly, picking up the teapot gracefully and beginning to pour the hot tea.  Corwin made a face that was probably meant to be a rueful smile.

"I don't know," he admitted heavily, slouching even further down into the chair.  "It's just...you know how it is around here..."  Trailing off, he looked at her hopefully as if waiting for her to finish his sentence.

Fiona sighed inwardly.  "No, actually I don't know.  Maybe if you told me what's bothering you I could help."  [And maybe I'll go to the Mosh Pit of Chaos with Mandor next Saturday night...]

"Well," Corwin said unhappily, "you know it's been a while since we had a battle or an invasion or an attempted coup or anything like that."  He looked to Fiona once more for understanding and she nodded slowly, hoping against hope that she didn't know where this was going.  If he was going to make one of those typical macho speeches about being bored stiff during peacetime...

Bowing his head in sorrow, her brother continued, "And you know I like fighting and battle and killing twenty-three enemy minions with one blow and all that stuff."  Again, Fiona nodded.  That she certainly did know...

"See, the present whaddayacallit, atmosphere in Amber is sickeningly peaceful, right?  So what do you do if you _like_ war?"  Yep.  It was one of those typical macho speeches, minus the usual semblance of intelligence and bravado.  Fiona settled in for a long talk.

"I don't know," she said consolingly.  "What _do_ you do?"

"You go shopping!" Corwin announced triumphantly.

And there it was.  She had just been neatly maneuvered into it.  If she refused to go shopping with him at this point, she would be a hardhearted, uncaring sister who would rather see him curl up and die than spend the afternoon looking at clothes.  Of course, the description fit her like a glove, but still...It was the principle of the thing, she decided.  It was all right to be hardhearted and uncaring, but if one just came out and advertised the fact it took all the fun out of the complicated sibling rivalries of the royal family.

Forcing her best smile, Fiona said calmly, "Okay.  Shopping it is."  She tried not to shudder too obviously.

#####

"I'm bored," Mandor whined plaintively.  He glanced languidly around him at the elegantly furnished room and let his head drop limply once more, slouching down in his armchair.

"You're always bored," Dara said exasperatedly.  Of course she was bored too, but that wasn't the point.  The point was that Mandor wasn't helping one bit.  Normally she would have eaten something—eating was her favorite hobby.  But it was too late for a mid-afternoon snack and too early for tea or supper, so she was stuck listening to her son gripe about how bored he was.

She wondered, not for the first time, why things were often so boring around the Courts of Chaos.  One would think, with all the intrigue, assassinations, and general plotting that occurred on a daily basis, that there would always be something interesting going on, but for the last few weeks things had been decidedly slow.

Perhaps it was time to change that...

Dara made up her mind.  "Mandor," she said coaxingly, "don't you think it's high time we were up and about _doing_ something instead of sitting here frittering our time away?"

"No, not really," Mandor said seriously.  "I actually kind of like frittering my time away.  Very peaceful.  But boring," he added after a little thought.

Dara sighed.  "I've been thinking about this," she said firmly.  "We need to spend more quality time together."

Mandor actually choked on his water and had to put the glass down on the table and cough a few times.  "More _what?"_ he demanded incredulously.  "Did you say—"

"Yes, quality time," Dara said sternly.  "And I've also decided—don't say a word, just listen!—that we ought to go shopping together to bond as a family."  She folded her arms and looked at him triumphantly.

The room was silent for a minute as Mandor thought.  He knew perfectly well what she had just done—if he declined her offer of quality time, he was a bad son.  And bad sons had an uncanny way of disappearing in the Courts of Chaos...

At last Mandor looked up at his mother, pouting a little.  "Fine," he said petulantly.  "Take me shopping.  See if I care."  Dara smiled tolerantly at her son, knowing she had won the first battle.  From here it was only a step to a makeover of his entire wardrobe, and from there...who knew?

Someday, she thought, he would thank her for this.

#####

Thirty minutes and one rather unpleasant hellride later, Corwin and Fiona had finally arrived at the mall.  The building was, Fiona thought, probably the biggest, ugliest thing she'd ever seen in her life.

"Here we are," Corwin said happily.

Fiona looked at him in disgust.  The siblings hadn't spoken throughout the journey, preserving at least the illusion of getting along.  The half hour had given Fiona time to collect her thoughts, but her horror at the prospect of shopping with Corwin had not decreased.

"Here we are," Fiona said dully.

Resolutely, she steered her thoughts to more cheerful subjects.  If she was stuck here at this...this _mall_ with Corwin, she might as well use the time to plan her next move in the great chess game that was life in Amber.  Hmm...obviously some revenge would be necessary for this little episode.  Perhaps Julian would help her...

"This is going to be so much fun!"  Corwin grinned at her like a little kid and then ran ahead of her through the glass doors.  Fiona sighed, set her jaw, and followed him.

Once inside, she simply stared for a moment before she remembered to close her mouth.  It was truly an awe-inspiring view, even for someone accustomed to life in Amber.  And all devoted to shopping...Hmm.  Maybe this trip hadn't been such a bad idea after all.  Or, she corrected herself, it wouldn't be so bad if it weren't with Corwin.

Corwin popped up at her elbow, still grinning from ear to ear.  "So where do you think we should go first?" he asked, practically jumping up and down.  "Papaya Republic?  The Restricted?  So many stores, so little time, huh?"  He punched her lightly in the arm.  "Aren't you glad I brought you along?"

"Oh.  Uh, yeah, sure," Fiona lied quickly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.  "I, um...why don't you pick where we go?"  There.  That would satisfy his mammoth ego for a while.  Maybe she would be able to plot her escape...

She was mildly surprised to see what appeared to be a thoughtful expression on Corwin's face.  "Well..." he said slowly.  "There's a store I've heard all about and I've been dying to see it."

Fiona wished he hadn't used the word "dying".  Under the circumstances it wasn't exactly encouraging.  "And what store is that?" she asked in her best falsely cheery, talking-to-four-year-olds voice.

"It's called Hot Subject," Corwin explained.  "I think it's very popular among young adults."

Fiona rolled her eyes and took Corwin's shoulders, shaking him a little.  "Look, Corwin, that means teenagers.  You are _not_ a young adult.  You are over a millennium old, and I will not have you lower yourself to consort with that...rabble!"  If this place Hot Subject really was a teenage hangout, this shopping trip could turn out to be much, much, much worse than she had dreamed.

Corwin grinned.  "Yeah, but I'm a kid at heart, Fi," he said.  "I never grew up, you know."

[You can say that again,] Fiona thought resignedly, taking a deep breath and trying to remember all the relaxation techniques she knew.  All she could think of was to keep breathing deeply.

"Come on!" Corwin exclaimed impatiently, grabbing her arm.  "We have to get going!  This could take a while," he added happily, his green eyes sparkling.

"That's what I was afraid of," Fiona groaned under her breath, giving up at last and letting herself be towed in the direction of Hot Subject.

#####

Mandor was still pouting.  "Do I hafta?" he whined, trying to dig in his heels as Dara dragged him through the mall entrance.  "C'_mon_, Mom!"

"Man_dor_..." Dara began warningly, giving him the Evil Eye.  Passersby shied away in fear, trying to convince themselves that they hadn't just seen a perfectly ordinary woman grow two feet taller and sprout horns for a split second.

To Dara's great satisfaction, her son continued to glare at her but remained silent.

"Well," she said briskly, "that's much better."  They stopped by a kiosk with the word DIRECTORY prominently displayed.  Hmm...where should they go first?

"Aha!" Dara cried.  "Just the place."  Mandor moaned a little and buried his face in his hands.  Dara patted his shoulder comfortingly.  "And you should like this place too, Mandor.  Just look!  I've been hearing about it forever."

Tremblingly, Mandor looked at the little rectangle on the map and then down at the key, which identified it as "Hot Subject."  "What's Hot Subject?" he asked fearfully.

"Oh, it's a charming little place for young adults," said Dara enthusiastically.  "And since you're one of my few surviving sons, I thought it would be nice if I went shopping with you!  I want to see what young people these days are wearing."

Mandor sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.  "Mother," he said firmly, "I am not a child anymore.  I am not even a young adult.  I am a grown man and I can do my own shopping."  He stopped and scanned her face anxiously.  "I realize that this may be hard for you to accept, but I'm not your little boy anymore."

If he was looking for wobbling chin, trembling lower lip, or any of the other signs of an emotional moment, he was severely disappointed.  "Of course not," Dara agreed.

"What?"  Surely, Mandor thought, he must have heard wrong.

"Of course you're a big grown-up boy," Dara crooned, pinching his cheek.  Mandor ducked, but too slowly to avoid the hand that ruffled his hair mercilessly.  "My little Mandor's growing up so fast.  And that's why I wanted to go with you to Hot Subject—so I can get used to the idea of my little baby Mandikins buying clothes for himself and entering the big grownup world!"

Despite Mandor's anguished protests and pleas, Dara took his hand and began marching in the direction of Hot Subject.  His efforts to escape were all in vain, and she callously ignored his piteous cries of, _"Mother!_  I can do it myself!"

#####

"Just look at that," Corwin exulted as they entered the store.  "Young adult fashions."

"Fashions in _Shadow,"_ Fiona reminded him sternly.  "You'll be a laughingstock when we get back to Amber."  Corwin ignored her, his eyes suddenly widening as he gazed off to their left.  Before she could stop him, he had raced off and was accosting a group of Shadow teenagers dressed in some sort of shiny black clothing with silver chains all over.

No.  No.  This was not happening to her.  She could just hear Corwin demanding, "Where did you get this?" as he fingered the tallest boy's jacket.  Fiona was suddenly very busy studying something in the opposite direction, hoping that nobody would realize she was with Corwin.  Of all the ways to start off a shopping trip...

"I get my stuff here, dude," the youth replied, looking a bit disconcerted but not homicidally angry as Fiona had feared.

"Yeah," Corwin said enthusiastically.  "Great place, isn't it?"  Casting strange glances at him over their shoulders, the kids left and he bounded back over to Fiona.

"Corwin," she said softly through gritted teeth, "you're embarrassing me."

Corwin had the grace to look a little abashed.  "But I couldn't help it!" he protested.  "Did you see that?  What they were wearing?  All black and silver!  It's in—"

"It's in your colors," Fiona said resignedly.  Now she would never get out alive.

Two minutes later, the royal family of Amber had commandeered a fitting room and Corwin had taken no less than ten items of clothing in to try on.  He closed the door with a flourish, then cursed softly.  "It doesn't lock," he said disappointedly.

So there she was.  Fiona, princess of Amber and very possibly the smartest one in the family, holding a fitting room door closed for her idiot brother.  She hoped desperately that nobody she knew would happen to pop into this Shadow for the afternoon.  That would be just too much.

"Well?" she called impatiently through the door.  "Do they fit?"

There were several muffled grunts and rustling sounds, and then Corwin's voice replied, "Nope.  I guess I'll have to get some more."  He began whistling "The Ballad of the Water-Crossers", and Fiona slumped down against the door in disgust.

#####

"Now won't this be fun?" Dara asked Mandor as she shoved him through the entrance to Hot Subject.  Mandor squeaked a little in reply, but she ignored this and kept propelling him toward the store counter, behind which sat a very bored-looking teenager with pink hair.

"Excuse me," she said imperiously.  The girl looked up, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she were trying not to laugh.  Mandor could understand perfectly—a fine spectacle they must be, he thought, a mother dragging her grown son into this shop of all shops!  "My son is looking for a new wardrobe."

Mandor shot the girl behind the counter a pleading look—_Please don't let her do this to me!_—but she ignored him.  "Right over there, ma'am," she droned, obviously uninterested in Mandor's plight.  As Dara pulled Mandor in the indicated direction, the girl went back to her magazine, shaking her head a little.

"Well," Dara said finally, looking at the clothes on display.  "It's certainly...interesting."  Yes, Mandor thought, interesting was the word.  He'd always liked gray more than black, and the styles didn't quite seem his type...

"Here."  His mother had been busy while he was contemplating the clothes—she shoved a whole pile of the stuff into his arms.  "Fitting rooms are over there.  Now scoot."  She started to give him a slap on the bottom, but he dodged out of the way in time.

Once inside the small cubicle, Mandor enjoyed the quiet.  Putting the clothes down on the bench under the mirror, he let out his breath and closed his eyes tightly, trying to nerve himself for the moment when he would have to go back out there and face his mother.  Oh, golden silence...

Then, very faintly, he heard a sound from the next cubicle.  It sounded like...it couldn't be...it was!  It was that infernal "Ballad of the Water-Crossers"!

Hoping to shut up whoever was on the other side of the wall, Mandor banged on it with both fists.  "Oy!" he yelled.  "Quiet over there!"  Much to his dismay, the response came not from the person in the adjacent fitting room, but from outside his door.

"Now, dear...that wasn't very nice."  Mandor's eyes widened as he realized that there was simply no escape from his mother.  Sighing in resignation, he began to try on a hideous-looking leather jacket.

#####

Fiona soon realized that this business of trying on clothes was going to be a big problem.  Either Corwin was more inept at finding the right size than she had known or he simply enjoyed torturing her.  "Well," he said brightly, "I'll try on this lot."

Not trusting herself to reply, Fiona glared at him until he retreated into the fitting room and she obligingly held the door shut again.  "Nasty chap in the other room," Corwin commented through the door.  "Told me to shut up."

"I wonder why," said Fiona.

#####

"Well?" Dara called through the door.  "How is it, sweetie?"  Mandor cringed, wondering why she felt it necessary to call him "sweetie" in a shop full of young adults.

Looking in the mirror, he examined the clothes—a black leather jacket and black pants of some strange ridged fabric.  "It's a little wide in the shoulders," he called back, "but nothing I can't handle."  Concentrating, Mandor shifted his body mass so that his shoulders became a little bulkier.  "Perfect," he said with some satisfaction, having forgotten for the moment that he didn't want these clothes.

When his mother didn't reply, he called, "Mother?"  There was still no answer, but he heard her voice talking to someone else.  A few words he couldn't hear, then: "—fancy meeting _you_ here, Princess Fiona!"

Princess Fiona?

Mandor's heart seemed to stop for a moment, then resumed its beating at about twice its normal speed.  Princess Fiona...his idol, his obsession, the love of his life.  And, from what he could gather, right outside the door.

Glancing toward the door, Mandor gave himself a last appraisal in the mirror and did his best to slick his hair back.  "Mandor," he told himself, "you are one happenin' dude."  Suddenly feeling much better about his clothes, he opened the door and stepped out nonchalantly.

#####

As Fiona began to chat as pleasantly as possible with Dara, she became aware of something in the background.  Apparently, malls in this particular Shadow installed small television screens in the corner of each shop, providing brainwashing in the form of advertisements.  Though Fiona had noticed this almost immediately, she had been distracted by Corwin's antics until now.

The current commercial was one for Zounds, some sort of jewelry store in the mall.  As the announcer continued to babble about the wonderful pendants, rings, and bracelets on sale, Fiona tuned both him and Dara out and watched the changing pictures of the merchandise.  Now this was the kind of shopping she preferred...

The door of the fitting room next to Corwin's swung open dramatically and, much to Fiona's dismay, Dara's son Mandor stepped out.  "Ah, Princess Fiona," he said smoothly, bowing and giving her what was obviously meant to be a charming smile.  "What a surprise to see you here."  Fiona made a strangled noise, which she quickly turned into a laugh, and returned the greeting while trying not to grind her teeth too much.  Then she concentrated on watching the Zounds commercial and ignoring Mandor as best she could.

Fiona nodded and smiled in response to some polite and slightly flirtatious remark of Mandor's and stared longingly at pair after pair of diamond earrings.  Suddenly, Dara gasped in surprise and grabbed Mandor's arm.  _"Look!"_ she breathed.

Startled, Fiona took a closer look at the necklace now on sale for only three hundred rubles.  A huge, bright red pendant on a long chain...there was only one pendant like that.  "The Jewel of Judgment!" she whispered.  Then, as it hit her and she turned to stare in horror at Dara and Mandor, who were staring in delight at each other: "Corwin!  Get out of there pronto!"

#####

Of course Mandor was happy that his family might finally have the chance to get the Eye of the Serpent for their own, but did it have to come at this moment?  He was just making headway in his relationship with Fiona...But his mother was hissing, "Mandor, _now!"_ and pulling at his arm.  Reluctantly, he bowed to Fiona again, smiled roguishly, and winked.  Then he and Dara took off for Zounds at a dead run.

Thirty feet later, Dara realized that they had no idea where they were going and skidded to a halt in front of the DIRECTORY kiosk.  "Zounds...Zounds..." she muttered, tracing a finger down the key.  "Here!"  She pointed to a shop on the second level of the mall and smiled wolfishly.

#####

"Corwin!" Fiona yelled desperately, banging on the door.  "Corwin, if you're not out in ten seconds I'm coming in!"

In nine and one-half seconds, her brother appeared, frantically pulling off the leather jacket he'd been trying on.  "No time!" Fiona screamed.  "Hurry!"  She dragged him out of the shop, ignoring the alarms that went off as the accidentally shoplifted jacket set off the sensors at the exit.

"Now," she muttered, "where is Zounds?"  She cast about frantically until she found a kiosk labeled DIRECTORY and dashed over to it, still towing the unfortunate Corwin.  It took a moment, but she located Zounds—it was halfway across the mall and on the second floor.  It would have to be, with her luck.

"Wait!" Corwin said.  "What are we—"  He had no time to finish his sentence, for Fiona was off again at a breakneck pace.

"I'll explain later," she told him.  "To the escalators!"

#####

Mandor took a moment to look down as he and Dara ran up the escalator, knocking people out of their way right and left.  To his immense satisfaction, Fiona and her no-good brother Corwin were just leaving Hot Subject.  He admired Fiona's practicality and presence of mind as she looked around, then made a beeline for the directory.

Dara had also noticed.  "They're gaining on us," she gasped.  "Faster!"

#####

"So this is an escalator," Corwin mused.  "I wonder how it works..."  Fortunately, he seemed to have picked up some of Fiona's urgency and kept moving while he talked.

Unfortunately...

"No, Corwin!" Fiona howled.  "Wrong one!"  Her brother, one of the best and most ingenious warriors Amber had ever seen, was busy trying to ascend the down escalator.  Not only was he losing valuable time, he was beginning to attract angry shoppers like iron filings to a magnet.  This was not good.

Quickly, she dashed forward, seized Corwin by the collar of his jacket, and hauled him bodily over to the escalator on the right-hand side.  "Now, up!" she ordered, shoving him onto one of the steps and getting on herself.  Why, oh why hadn't she just left him in the fitting room?

#####

"There!" Dara cried in triumph.  The entrance to Zounds lay directly ahead of them, and it was none too soon for Mandor.  He wasn't used to this kind of exercise.

They skidded into the shop and almost collided with the counter.  "Where..." Dara panted, leaning on the edge of the counter and glaring at a very startled employee.  "Where...large red pendant...three hundred rubles..."

"Oh yes," the employee said importantly, bustling over to a glass case and removing what was unmistakably the Eye of the Serpent.  It seemed to shine with an inner fire, and Mandor's eyes widened at the thought that they had regained it at last.

Somehow, this all seemed too easy...

"Now," said the employee, "cash, check, or credit card?"

#####

"I don't believe this," Fiona moaned, looking around at the bewildering array of shops.  What was the Jewel of Judgment doing in a jewelry store?...But there was no time for questions, as she had to keep reminding Corwin.  The important thing was to find Zounds and get the Jewel before Mandor and Dara.

"How long are we going to be running?" Corwin asked plaintively as they flew past dozens of booths selling hand-dyed grains of rice and personalized socks.  Fiona shook her head and kept going, scanning the passing shops intently for any sign of Zounds.  Hopefully, they weren't too far behind the others...

Then the blood froze in her veins as Corwin suddenly dropped behind and she heard him say excitedly, "Oh, goody!  Ice cream!"

#####

Dara fumbled in her bag, producing the Shadow money she had fortunately had the foresight to bring along.  "Five hundred," she snapped, slamming the small coins onto the counter.  "Hurry!"

The employee was not going to be hurried.  "Do you want that gift wrapped, ma'am?" he asked politely.

"NO!" Dara shouted.  "No gift wrap!  Now give it to me!"  Mandor had learned through hard experience that it was usually not a good sign when his mother began foaming at the mouth.

"All right," the employee said, taking the coins.  "And, with tax, your change is one hundred seventy-eight rubles."  He opened a drawer and began to painstakingly count.  "One hundred...one hundred fifty...one hundred seventy-five...Just a minute, ma'am, I'll find you some one-ruble pieces."

#####

After this was all over, Fiona would apologize to Corwin for her behavior.  However, this was no time for gentleness.

"Corwin!" she shrieked.  _"Run!"_  Knocking over the startled ice cream vendor, she pushed her brother ahead of her as she ran.  There!  Through the crowds, she could just see ZOUNDS in large neon lettering.

Fervently, Fiona prayed that they weren't too late.

#####

Mandor watched the employee like a hawk as he counted out the last three rubles.  "Your change, ma'am," the man said proudly, handing it to Dara, who stared at it in total disgust.  She had gone through the agony of the last few seconds for a few worthless pieces of metal?

"At last!" she crowed, turning to Mandor.  "The Eye of the Serpent is ours!"  She smiled at him.  "Aren't you glad I insisted on a little family bonding time?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Mandor murmured.  Still, it was a good bargain.  All in all, the shopping trip had been very profitable.

"...And here's your receipt, ma'am," the employee told Dara, pressing a small piece of paper into her hand along with the paper bag that held the most precious item in existence.

#####

As they covered the last twenty feet to the store entrance, Fiona saw something that made her heart stand still.  Dara and Mandor were standing at the counter, apparently engaged in some sort of transaction.

Giddy with the sheer tension of the moment, she put on an extra burst of speed and covered the distance in two seconds.  With Corwin right behind her, she dashed into the store—

#####

Dara turned, grinning from ear to ear, as Fiona and Corwin hurtled into the store at half the speed of light.  To Mandor's amusement, their momentum carried them all the way to the counter, where they dropped to the ground, exhausted and slightly dazed.

Shaking her head a little, Dara turned to go.  "Come, Mandor," she said, lifting the bag so that the Amberites could see it and jiggling it until it clinked.  "We have business elsewhere."

Though he was loath to leave his dear Fiona once again, Mandor contented himself with blowing her a kiss as he followed in his mother's wake.  She glared at him.  Ah, that Princess Fiona—always playing hard to get.

"You have a good day now, ma'am," the Zounds employee called as they reached the exit.  Dara looked back for a second, then smiled brilliantly at the shop in general.

"Oh, I will," she said.  "I will."

A/N: Okay, that was ridiculously long.  I hope you enjoyed it, because otherwise you've no doubt been driven insane.  I just love the image of Mandor as "Mandikins".  Quick apologies to all stores twisted here: Banana Republic, The Limited, Zales, and...of course...Hot Topic.  I don't know how many of you are familiar with Hot Topic, but it's a wildly popular place for...what else?  Young adults.  You can get everything there from black leather and chains to Hello Kitty and Cabbage Patch Kids.  THE EVIL ONE andthelimeskittle: Did this remind you of your own story, "Fiona Goes to the Mall"?  I only realized that myself when I was halfway through it.  Who knows...maybe I was subconsciously influenced by reading your story.  Anyway...

~~~~~

And now, Amber fans, the moment you've been waiting for...the second installment in the Useful Amber Tips has arrived!  Interchangeable Hellride Paragraphs are an indispensable addition to any story, especially serious ones—they can add a bit of badly needed comic relief.  You can use this tool in two ways:

{A} Mix and Match

Take these ready-written paragraphs and use them in any order to create your own unique hellride!

...A primeval, foul-smelling sludge from horizon to horizon with roiling clouds overhead and the occasional ray of sunlight, unbearably bright as it pierced through the stifling atmosphere...

...A village of tall, strangely shaped huts, offering tantalizing glimpses of oddly familiar people with three arms and no obvious facial features of any kind...

...A lush green meadow dotted here and there with delicate-looking blue flowers that seemed to enjoy eating each other, as well as small birds and unwary travelers...

...A rocky valley with straggling blades of grass protruding in ragged clumps from under stones, bounded by tall mountains covered with a forbidding white glaze of snow...

...An unearthly landscape in blues and oranges, covered with strange, spiny plants and stranger, spinier animals and crisscrossed by gurgling reddish rivers in which swam huge fish with opposable fins...

{B} Create Your Own

Select one word at random from each of the three columns to create a fascinating descriptive phrase, then build your own paragraph.  Good for real ambitious types.

A                                 B                                  C 

Large                           Blue                             Avalanche

Frightening                    Hairy                            Mountainside

Green                           Lush                             Gorilla

Dangerous                    Rocky                          Village

Romantic                      Friendly                        Volcano

Rippling                        Cloudy                         Wasteland

Winding                        Voluminous                  Grass

Scurrilous                     Eye-catching                 Swamp

Twisted                        Happy                          Desert

Flying                           Purple                          People-eater

With the help of these guides, you can avoid the embarrassment of badly written, dumb-sounding hellrides!  Simply insert the above paragraphs and/or phrases and continue on your merry story-writing way.  Tune in next time for the next Useful Amber Tool—Available Family Relationships.  (e.g. "Merlin's daughter", "Deirdre's son")

~~~~~

That was fun.  Please don't laugh at my awful hellride paragraphs—I never liked writing hellrides much anyway.  Hmm...maybe I'll just use the chart next time...Anyway, I've already started the next chapter and hopefully it won't be a matter of months before it's posted.  And I finally got to read _The Dawn of Amber_, which is excellent.  I have a new favorite character...Aber.  Of course, I'll have to read _Chaos and Amber_ as soon as I can (which is probably as soon as it comes out in paperback—I can't count on my library to have new science fiction and I don't have the money to buy hardbacks).  So who else out there likes Aber?


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